


better slow it down

by BeautifulSoup



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, the ao3 tags know what I need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulSoup/pseuds/BeautifulSoup
Summary: Ronan was sprawled indolently across the seat, in blatant violation of seatbelt laws. Adam might have believed it was just standard Lynch belligerence if it hadn’t been for the very intentional way his foot had been grazing against Adam’s ankle for the past fifteen minutes, or the way he had been looking at him from under his eyelashes since he and Gansey had arrived at St Agnes, or the way he was biting his lip while giving him that look.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Six months ago I got [this anon on tumblr](http://pygmypyncher.tumblr.com/post/146988065841/adam-gansey-roll-up-the-partition-please-i), and since I am a quick and efficient writer, I finally got around to it tonight. Go me! (This is why I never take part in any challenges. My timekeeping is atrocious.)

Adam Parrish was a practical creature.

His mind worked on solutions, decoding the mysteries and seeing the possibilities beyond them. He was steady, rational, focused on the task at hand, and would remain so until that task was completed to his utmost ability. Nothing formed by his mind or his hands was half-hearted.

It was sometimes difficult for him to remember that, especially with Ronan’s leg pressed so deliberately against his in the back of the Pig.

Ronan was sprawled indolently across the seat, in blatant violation of seatbelt laws. Adam might have believed it was just standard Lynch belligerence if it hadn’t been for the very intentional way his foot had been grazing against Adam’s ankle for the past fifteen minutes, or the way he had been looking at him from under his eyelashes since he and Gansey had arrived at St Agnes, or the way he was biting his lip while giving him that look.

They were small intimacies, but they had been adding up since Adam had climbed into the backseat and Ronan had followed him, and now he could feel the heat of them in his pulse.

“Do you guys want anything?” Gansey asked, sticking his head in the driver’s door, letting the forecourt smell of gasoline and diesel into the car.

“No,” Adam replied, his voice rougher than he had hoped, “I’m good.”

Gansey turned his gaze to Ronan, slouched against the opposite window. “Nah,” was all he said, not taking his eyes off of Adam. With a sigh, Gansey stepped out of the Camaro and headed into the gas station to pay.

As soon as the car door had slammed shut behind him, Ronan pressed up against Adam, hands in his hair and mouth against his throat. His skin was hot, and the contact seemed to channel all of Adam’s static charge to where their bodies touched. Ronan’s lips were soft but his teeth were sharp, and Adam couldn’t do much more than reach up to touch him.

“Ronan,” Adam gasped, his fingers clutching uselessly at Ronan’s shoulders, but he immediately forgot where he had been going with the protest as Ronan’s palm pressed against the fly of his jeans.

“Yeah?” Ronan’s voice wasn’t much more than a harsh breath. He pulled back a little, his face illuminated briefly in orange as a car nearby was unlocked, flashing its hazards. It brought Adam back to himself, that quick burst of the outside world, and he placed his hands on Ronan’s shoulders and pushed him away, just far enough to look at him.

“We’re in the middle of a gas station,” he pointed out, trying to ignore his own heavy breathing and the knot of arousal still building in his gut.

“It’s dark,” Ronan answered, trailing his lips across Adam’s neck in a way that was definitely unfair, his fingers just barely dipping below the waist of Adam’s jeans. The forecourt was badly lit, more security lights were burnt out than on, ancient bulbs giving an atmospheric yellow glow rather than visibility. He could barely make out Ronan’s features in the shadow, just flashes of pale flesh and a shine of wicked eyes. The practical part of Adam’s mind, the little that remained, wondered vaguely how secure the setup was.

“Gansey will be back soon,” Adam tried, although his resolve was already wavering, his gaze flickering to the illuminated windows of the old mom’n’pop gas station. It was the kind of place Gansey loved: unchanged for 50 years, decrepit, “ _authentic”_. Gansey seemed to be explaining all of this to the ancient man behind the counter, judging by the expression on his face and his gesticulating.

“He won’t,” Ronan said in a voice that was almost sing-song. “Mac’s coffee machine always takes at least fifteen minutes, and Gansey’s already telling him about his latest hike.” Ronan sat back a little and caught Adam’s eyes with a smirk, then turned to look at Gansey, who was definitely deep in conversation.

Adam couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck it,” he breathed, and pulled Ronan in for a clashing kiss. He could feel Ronan’s smug smile against his lips, and did his best to kiss it off his face.

“You’ve got no fucking idea how good you look tonight,” Ronan sighed, scraping his teeth against the particular bit of Adam’s neck he _knew_ was a weak spot. His hands pushed up under Adam’s shirt, hot and restless. “I’ve wanted to do this since we picked you up.”

Adam laughed breathily and brought his hand up to cup the back of Ronan’s head. The velvety bristle of his hair tickled his palm, and Ronan moaned and pressed back into the touch. Adam wasn’t sure what was so exceptional about his outfit tonight, but he wasn’t going to complain about the reaction. His reply was lost in his throat when Ronan swiftly unfastened his belt and pants and slipped his hand into his underwear.

“Jesus Christ,” was all Adam managed as Ronan pulled his already half-hard cock out of his pants and slipped to his knees in the cramped space behind the centre console. As Ronan took him into his mouth, all Adam could do was slump down in his seat, spreading his legs to give Ronan room.

The window was cold against his temple and Ronan’s skin was hot under his fingers. He couldn’t see Ronan’s face, the angle was too awkward for that – the seats too upright, the footwell too narrow for Ronan to kneel in, really. Adam kept his head against the window and watched his breath mist across the glass.

The Camaro had never felt so small, so open, so conspicuous. Every time headlights passed them on the road, Adam felt a thrill pass down his spine, felt it pulse in his cock. He was pretty sure Ronan felt it, too, judging by the moans he felt travelling up his spine. It wasn’t the idea of getting caught that was making sweat bead on Adam’s chest, more the knowledge that Ronan was sucking his dick right here in the Pig and nobody had any idea. Hopefully.

He looked down at Ronan, at the top of his buzzed head bobbing enthusiastically, at the bare sliver of shoulder where his jacket had slipped down and revealed his muscle shirt. The noises he was making were obscene: all wet slurping, smacking, muffled moans. In the confined space of the car it all seemed louder, as if someone outside should be able to hear it. Adam tipped his head back against the seat and moaned at it, at the small gagging sounds Ronan made when he was too ambitious, the moans that let Adam know how much he was enjoying it, how it all echoed around the leather and gasoline scented interior.

Ronan pulled off, just for a moment, catching his breath, catching Adam’s eyes. His pupils were blown, his lips red and obscenely wet, a thin trail of spit hanging between them and the flushed head of Adam’s cock. When he grinned up at Adam it was smug and self-satisfied, and Adam wondered how _he_ looked, sprawled over the backseat of his best friend’s car with his cock out and his legs spread. He didn’t wonder for long, because Ronan was back on him in an instant, one hand on his hip while the other cupped his balls.

Adam moaned long and low at that, at the renewed vigour of Ronan’s attention. He grasped for something to hold on to, found Ronan’s head with his right hand, the driver’s headrest with his left. He blinked his eyes open, caught movement in the station.

“Ronan, Ronan,” he panted, pawing feebly at Ronan’s shoulder. “He’s got the coffee, Gansey’s got the coffee…”

Panic thrilled through him, but Ronan only clutched harder at his hip. His tongue curled around Adam’s cock as he sucked harder, swallowed until Adam was nudging the back of his throat and Adam was struggling not to thrust up into him. The stroke of his thumb at the join of his thigh was an encouragement.

Adam closed his eyes, looked away from the store, and let himself go. He brought his forearm up to his mouth, sank his teeth into his own skin to stifle his shout as he came. The flush flowed all through him and he sank even further into the seat, trying to catch his breath even as Ronan worked him through it, sucking at him until he was soft, until Adam had to push him away from his oversensitive flesh.

Adam watched, his bones useless and turned to jelly, as Ronan tucked him back into his pants and carefully did up his fly and belt.

“You’re a maniac.” Adam’s voice wasn’t much more than a hoarse drawl, drowsy and pleased with a smile catching on the edge of it. He flapped his hand about until he caught part of Ronan, which turned out to be the collar of his jacket, and pulled him down for a kiss. “That was amazing,” he mumbled against Ronan’s lips, when he had a little more control of his brain.

Ronan just kissed him, and Adam could taste himself on his lips, could feel his arousal against his hip where Ronan was rocking against him. The thought of it sent a wave of heat sweeping through him again. Adam wasn’t sure when they had lain flat across the back seat, but he wasn’t complaining with Ronan’s warm weight above him.

Distantly, he heard the jangle of a bell, and somehow the meaning of that noise made it through the jumbled, hazy remains of Adam’s mind. He sat up hurriedly and pulled Ronan with him, not wanting it to be obvious what they had just been doing but unwilling to give up physical contact quite yet. Ronan slid close to him, just enough to press his left thigh along Adam’s right. He took his hand and kissed him, lightly, sweetly, on the lips. Adam smiled into it and brought his hand to Ronan’s neck.

They were still kissing when the car rocked with the opening of the door.

“I thought Blue and I were supposed to be the disgusting ones?” Gansey asked, voice full of good humour as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“What else are we supposed to do when you fuck off for half an hour chatting to random old dudes?” Ronan asked, smile sharp. Adam wondered if Gansey would notice the redness of Ronan’s lips, the shine of spit on his chin. Maybe the flush on Adam’s cheeks would give it away, or the dazed look he was sure was in his eyes.

“Alas, of course it’s my fault.” Gansey laughed, open and hearty, and passed them each a cardboard cup of coffee.

“Where are we actually going, man?” Ronan asked, shouting to be heard as the Pig roared to life. Adam watched as he licked his lips before taking a sip of coffee.

“Picking up Blue and Henry from Litchfield, then onto Engle’s party.”

“You didn’t say we were going to a fucking Aglionby party!” Ronan was shouting for a different reason now, his fist thumping against the back of the passenger seat’s headrest.

“Simmer down!” Gansey called, and Ronan sat back with a scowl. “We don’t have to stay long, but I promised I’d put in an appearance. And I’ll find that easier with you guys there, too.”

Ronan clearly couldn’t think of a good argument against that, so his only retort was a snort and a half-hearted kick at the back of the passenger seat.

“It’ll be fine,” Adam said, loud enough for Gansey to hear and send him a thankful nod in the rear view mirror in return. He pressed his lips against Ronan’s ear and said, just loud enough to be heard, “We can find somewhere for me to return the favour.”

The look he got in return for that was equal parts sharp and promising, and seemed far too private a thing to be seen somewhere so public.

 


End file.
